Blooming
by Petite Roses
Summary: Keefe tries his hand at poetry. (Sophie/Keefe).


**Blooming** (Sophie/Keefe)

Notes: This wasn't beta'd, so I apologize if the prose is a little rough or if there are any grammatical errors. I also don't have my copies of the books with me, so I also apologize if there are any inconsistencies with canon. This is a future fic, set when Sophie is in Level 6 and Keefe in Level 8.

* * *

 _Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
I only have eyes  
For you_

Keefe looked up from what he had written, and scratched his head. In one quick movement he scribbled out the poem and ripped the sullied page from his notebook.

He felt Sophie tense at the sound of the paper tearing from her seat at the tiny library table across from him.

"Sorry," Keefe whispered, jamming the crumbled page into the depths of his bag.

Sophie quirked an eyebrow at him. Keefe waggled his back at her.

"You're wasting an awful lot of paper there," Sophie said softly, the left corner of her mouth curling up into a smile.

"I'm working on something _very_ important, Foster." Keefe intoned dramatically, winking at her.

He pretended not to noticed how Sophie's cheeks reddened as she tore her gaze from him and back to her Multispeciesial Studies essay.

The late afternoon sun filtered in from the high windows in the Silver Tower's library. Lady Cadence had graciously, blessedly permitted Sophie to study in the Tower's library after her Linguistics lessons, something for which Keefe was eternally grateful for. The Silver Tower was unnervingly silent and well-ordered. It was almost as though they _wanted_ Keefe to liven things up.

Against the vivid white of her cape, Sophie's hair glowed gold in the light from the windows. Keefe swallowed, averted his eyes, and pretended to flip purposely through the top book in a stack he'd strategically angled between them so she couldn't see what he was working on. He waited until Sophie anxiously tugged out one of her eyelashes, fully absorbed in her essay writing, before daring to shut the book and glance at the blank sheet in front of him.

Sophie had lived in the Lost Cities for five years now, but every so often she'd still reference something inherently, undeniably human as though it were as commonplace as prattles or Base Quest. Then she'd see the blank looks on the faces of her friends and blush before rushing to explain herself.

It had happened again just two days before. They had been standing with Biana in the manicured purple grass outside the Silver Tower, waiting for Fitz to retrieve a book he'd left behind in his dormitory. Biana had been complaining about her brother, and how he had almost certainly intentionally left the book behind just to annoy her. Sophie had chimed in, mentioning something her younger sister constantly repeated to annoy her when they were little — _Roses are red, violets are blue, onions stink, and so do you!_ — when Keefe had looked at her, grinning, but obviously confused.

"It's based on a human love poem," Sophie said quickly. " _Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you_. But there are lots of parodies and different versions of it, because the rhyme is so simple."

Biana looked skeptical. "Really? _That's_ a love poem?"

Sophie nodded and began ticking the variants off on her fingers. " _Roses are red, violets are blue, I've never experienced a love so true; Roses are red, violets are blue, I've never met anyone as beautiful as you…"_

The idea had clicked into place there.

Keefe was good at art, good at manifesting a thought into an image on the page. But with words, with the constant flirting, it felt like he was implying what he truly meant, dancing around what he really wanted to say. Maybe it was time to be more direct.

 _Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
I would really like  
To kiss you_

Keefe ripped the page out with a sharp jerk of his hand. Sophie has said there were so many versions of the poem because the rhyme was simple, but Keefe couldn't help but find the simplicity restricting. The rhyme, in fact, was so painfully simple that Keefe was certainly going to come across as a simpering, love-struck idiot. Which he didn't want. He had to retain _some_ shred of his dignity.

It was at this moment that Sophie reached her foot out slightly under the small table and pressed her ankle against his.

"You alright?" Sophie whispered. "You seem…stressed. Your face is all bunched up."

Except he absolutely _was_ a simpering, love-struck idiot.

"I'm perfect, as long as your here." Keefe said in the most terrible lothario voice he could muster.

Keefe tried his best to avoid reading his friends' emotions, unless he was certain they were lying or holding something back. He'd ignore the part of his brain shouting at him what the people around him were feeling, until the shouts faded to hazy white noise. But Sophie's emotions had always been heightened, and Keefe struggled to turn off _any_ part of his brain when she was around.

He felt embarrassment from her first, and underlying that, a sense of gratification and…glee.

Sophie looked down at her essay, a small grin on her face, but did not move her foot.

They spent the next half hour in silence as the library gradually began to clear out, Level 8s slowly rising from their tables, yawning and stretching before retreating to the dormitories on the Tower's top floors.

Keefe read his work over once more before carefully tugging the page out of his notebook just as a shriek rang out from the other side of the Library. Sophie's eyes widened and she jumped up from her seat and poked her head around the tall shelf their shielded their table from the rest of the Library.

Keefe saw his chance and placed the page onto Sophie's essay. When Sophie returned from peering around the shelf, Keefe had gotten to his feet and was gingerly sliding his books into his bag.

"The Tower Librarian was shouting at a pair of Level 8s. They'd used telekinesis to retrieve an old book with fragile binding they'd left somewhere over there." Sophie said, gesturing to the other end of the library.

"You see what I have to put up with?" Keefe said as casually and jovially as he could manage as Sophie smiled and rolled up her essay, placing it in her satchel. " _That's_ what counts as chaos in this place. Floating an old book through the air for a few seconds."

He felt his breath hitch as Sophie picked up the page in one hand and a book in the other and moved to place them both in her satchel. She froze when her eyes looked at the page. Keefe watched her eyes scan what he'd written.

 _Roses are red (sometimes)  
Violets are blue (they're definitely purple. Seriously Foster, what is it with humans?)  
You make me want  
To be a better person (and you. I want you. If that's okay with you, of course)._

Sophie flushed a rare, violent shade of pink (that Biana had once likened to the pink shell of a custard burst but Keefe had always privately maintained was pretty), the colour spreading down to her neck and looked up at him, her mouth gaped. Keefe exhaled sharply and kept his eyes locked on hers.

"…this isn't a prank, right?" Sophie said after what felt like an hour.

"Sophie, this is the most sincere I've ever been!" Keefe scoffed, aghast. "And it's not like I've ever been _subtle_ with you, but really. I'm trying to make this epic romantic declaration and you think it's a _prank_?"

Sophie bit her lip. "Why do you want to be a better person? You're already a great person. Well, elf, but. Same thing."

Keefe felt frazzled. This wasn't quite the response he had been anticipating (Sophie throwing herself into his arms) or the response he'd been dreading (Sophie crumbling the poem up and tossing it in his face before throwing herself into Fitz's arms).

"Isn't that how you know you're right for someone?" Keefe said finally, his voice wobbly. "When they make you want to be better, do better?"

Sophie looked up at him and blinked, before taking a step forward and closing the space between them. She tugged on the edge of Keefe's silver cape. "Bend down a bit."

Keefe inclined his head until their noses were just shy of touching. "Yes, Foster?"

Sophie stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his. Keefe felt warmth pooling in his stomach and ripples of what felt like joy radiating from Sophie. He gripped the edge of the table with one hand to keep his knees from buckling and tentatively, carefully placed his other hand on Sophie's waist.

Sophie pulled away after a long moment, knotting her fingers in the front of Keefe's cape to steady her balance on her toes. "Roses are red, violets are blue...you're too tall, but I want you, too."


End file.
